Category: Darkdoors Series

You all would have most probably forgotten about this blog’s existence, I most obviously had. Apologies readers. Here goes the next part. (I know you will have to go through the story all over again. In advance, sorry for the data you’ll waste 😛

Giving us the unexpected at the unexpected time, that’s without doubt, life’s motto. Motto, by which it abides by without any defaults. I wish it forgot that motto once in a while. And if by any chance it did and listened to my wishes, I would wish it wasn’t my turn to face the unexpected at the unexpected time, or the ones that are dear to me, I know, that is quite a lot of wishes for the day. Also, I wish to see the blond 5 year old. I miss him all the time.

Anyways, seeing your best friend cry is nobody’s favorite sight and when you have NEVER seen your best friend cry, that’s all the more surprising and well, the highest level of concerning.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Rach?”

I had to ask her the exact same line 7 times and every time she couldn’t go ahead of “Mom…da..dad…”. And every time, she sobbed even harder and the hiccups grew louder. I had gone over all the things that could possibly go wrong with Rachel.

Her parents were amazing, so no problem there.

Financial problems (although she wouldn’t sob so hard at this)?NOPE, she was blindingly rich. I had once asked her if she ever threw money out in the trash.

Sibling problem? I wish not, her older brother was a role model to me. I won’t be able to punch him.

Boyfriend problem? Well for that, she has to have one.

Currently she had a crush on that tall senior whose name I couldn’t recall.

I couldn’t think of anything else. I had to start with the eighth time, when she said something I hadn’t heard this morning and I wish I hadn’t heard at all.

“Divorce, my parents are filing for divorce” I wish I hadn’t asked her at all. Her parents were the parents people talk about in life goals. All those parents we see in the movies and head out of the movie theaters disappointed because they were too amazing to be real, SHE HAD THOSE PARENTS. I always taunted my mom how Rachel’s mom gave her breakfast besides bacon. They were two amazing souls. Thinking about them separating was unbearable. They loved me like a second daughter. I loved them like my own parents.

“Today isn’t April 1st Rach, I am not falling for the prank” I knew it was true and calling it a prank wasn’t going to change reality, but somewhere deep down, I wished that it really was a prank and Rach would take her words back. But she won’t, she couldn’t. Her parents won’t be together anymore.

I couldn’t come up with anything. I wanted to console her and tell her that she’ll be fine and I’ll be there for her always but that wasn’t going to help.

We sat there, for I don’t know how long. It seemed like a lifetime. She sat there, sobbing and hiccuping, refusing to say anything else. And I wouldn’t ask. But I wanted her to talk to me. Suddenly she got up and started walking towards our classroom. And I didn’t stop her, I should have, but I didn’t.

I waited the whole day for her to look back at me again and give me a paper note or a sign, but my day passed waiting.

As soon as I entered home, my mom came running in the hallway and shut my mouth with her hand, stopping my “I’m home” midway.

“Wha..”

“Shut up and leave right away”

“But…”

“Just leave” With that, she pushed me back outside the door and came outside too to offer some sort of explanation.

“Rachel’s inside, her parents are getting divorced, and…”

“I know already..” Another mouth shutting slap.

“Would you please whisper? And wait for me to finish.

Her parents are getting divorced, she is devastated of course. She got the news a couple of weeks ago, she couldn’t tell you because she wasn’t able deal with it herself. “

“But she was..”

“No she wasn’t visiting her grandparents, she had locked herself inside her room and was crying all this while.”

I couldn’t believe it. She had been sending me pictures from her grandparents place everyday. She sounded so happy over the phone, all the stupid conversations, how was she managing all that when she was so broken on the inside?

“She has been having terrible nightmares and she screams all night long..” I could see the horror on my mother’s face. “She’s heard about us from someone. Of course, she doesn’t know that we are the people who perform all the activities but she is looking for them. “

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell Rachel about all of this. But all the things she was going through I could help her, I could easily help her and put her misery to rest.

I had to decide, which was more important, my secret or my best friend.

“I wasn’t really expecting you to complete helping Saighton after what you told me happened in the cave. As far as I know you, you would have come back and wouldn’t have agreed to any of such “helping” cases. What was so different?” My mom air quotes the helping part, as always. It’s been a week since I got back from my expedition. Well, running down someone else’s dreams doesn’t really count as an expedition but whatever. My mom has been pestering me ever since. She thought the blood would’ve scared the living daylights out of me, and the fact that it didn’t, wasn’t going down her digestive system.

“For the 100th time mom, I’m not such a runner that you think me to be. And secondly it was the blond kid that kept me hooked. Please close the interogation and let me have my breakfast.”

“Okay no more of this. You helped him, the case’s closed. Now get ready fast and leave for college faster. I’ve got some work at the office, i’ll see you in the evening.” She kissed me goodbye and left.

The fact that my mother couldn’t believe that I lasted through the whole dream wasn’t particularly wrong. And that too when so much of blood was involved, it made it even more unbelievable. Not just to her, but to me too.

After I had found the kid sitting in blood puddle and being shouted at, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I got up from there, he kept stopping me, told me not to go to his mother, told me how bad it would be for both me and him, worse for him actually. But I knew, if I didn’t help him now, his miserable adult form that is up in my bedroom, will always be such a miserable mess and he will be disappointed yet another time. Worse part, he will always be this scared, always running away because his dreams take the best of him and scare him bad enough to make him a secluded, dumb person that he was. I had to help him, no matter how much more blood comes my way.

I reached the lady, she’s a big drum I should say. I think she drinks all the blood that the hens shed when she butchers them. Nasty woman.

“Excuse me, can I have a moment with you” She stinks too. Very badly.

“I don’t got any time for y’all, I got a shop to run. Yo can go an excuse me someone else lady” The heavy country accent with improperly arranged words, this woman ticks all the right boxes on my list of things I dislike about people. Wish I could swing a few punches in her face. But that wasn’t the time for that.

“I can see how busy you are ma’am. I don’t wish to take much of your time. I don’t want anything from you. It’s something that concerns your child’s mental status. I know you run a very successful business of butchery but I would suggest that you keep the butchery limited to hens and not extend it to your child’s mind. Can’t you see how scared he is? He can’t stand the sight of blood, and all you can see is how many chickens you butchered?”

I continued giving her left right and centre until she understood what she had put her child through.

I could recall, when I was in high school, there’s this test in biology class that we all had to give our blood samples for blood group testing and study of tissues on the skin of our fingers or something like that. I couldn’t bear the the sight of blood when the first child went down to give his sample. That is how much the sight of blood nauseated me. And I, Meigle Seychelles withstood a bloody beach, a blood rain and a blood puddle. This was the greatest superhero transformation of all times according to me.

But since the last week, I couldn’t get it out of my mind, why was this one person, this one dream, so important for me? Maybe the blond child kept me there. But I was never a children loving person. Maybe the adventure factor. Yes, that could be it.

That’s enough thinking for the day Meigle, you’ve got college. I reminded myself. It was already 9 and I had my first class in half an hour. I got ready as fast as I could, showered in 5 minutes dot (Damn my superheroic traits), wore the first sweater I came across and the same pair of jeans that I had been wearing for the past week. Yeah, hygiene and I haven’t been the best of friends. I reached college in 10 minutes (record established) and I still had the time to grab a coffee from the cafeteria. I have to say, this one dream expedition, has done wonders for me.

I spot my BFF Rachel sitting in a corner.

“Hey babe, wassup” she doesn’t answer. “Rach, honey what’s wrong”

She doesn’t answer, instead she starts sobbing. Badly. And she isn’t the one who sobs or cries. Ever. She turns towards me, her eyes are swollen. Real bad.

Rains are symbolic of happiness. At least to me till now they were. They symbolized happiness to me until it started raining blood. Yes, people have all kinds of dreams, ranging from happy to sad to depressed, but gore, I wasn’t expecting it and it’s an unwelcome surprise.

I ran inside the cave, I didn’t really fancy blood rains. But the man sitting in my bedroom wouldn’t let me be in peace in the cave too. The cave had blood too by now. It seemed to me as it would be flooded by blood in no less than a few minutes. I had to escape somehow. Damn this man’s dream and his struggle with them. I agreed to help the man not to get scared to death myself.

Looking for a way out, I decided to walk in the direction from where the blood was flowing in. “It’s just a dream, I won’t die” I said to myself. There’s always a way out of these dreams, maybe this dream had a gore one. I tried walking as fast as I could and without looking at my feet, unlike when I had the walked on the beach cemetery. With my fingers holding my nose, I finally reach a corner which is yet to be surrendered to the blood maniac’s dream. The corner is dry, yet very pointy. But then it’s a dry corner, would suffice for a while.

The moment I adjust my body’s posture according to the pointy ends of the cave wall, I hear certain screams, and they are getting louder and louder. What is it with this man!! First he wants corpses on a beach, then he makes me acquainted to a sweet little boy and as soon as I get used to his presence, he makes him vanish. As if that wasn’t enough, he floods my only hideout with blood. He is just not comfortable with other people’s comfort and he loves gore and shouting women.

He just wants me on the move. I move forward in the direction from where the screams are coming from and they’re getting nastier as I get closer.

“You are one shitty child” it’s a woman’s voice. A woman who has a manly voice, and it’s too shrill, too sharp to even bear for a second more.

“But mother I just can’t, I’m afraid to even..” The woman cuts the boy off. She has that authoritative voice that I’ve always hated. My kindergarten teacher had that sort of voice, but she’s even worse than her.

“But you have to, you will have to. Do you want our shop to shut down? Do you want us sitting on the roads, you little schlep?” I have gotten too near to bear this woman’s voice for even a moment now. I lean in, and see a butcher shop three steps away from me. I decide against walking towards it. But then maybe that woman is the reason that the man sitting in my room is having such blood infested dreams. I will have walk up to the shop, whether I like it or not, whether it ends up well or not.

As I get near enough to see clearly what’s going on inside, I crane my neck inside the window and find a blond boy facing his back towards me sitting in a puddle of blood. More blood!! God save me please! I swear the man’s gonna have his own blood puddle the moment I get back. I move inside a bit more, making sure sure that the boy doesn’t know I am watching him. As I go nearer, I hear sobs. They aren’t of the loud sorts, as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear him sobbing.

“You’re not supposed to be here, if my mother finds out, she’s not gonna be so happy” so he knows I am here. Better if I go and have a look at the boy, maybe I can calm him a little, even if I have to sit in the blood puddle.

When I face him, he’s the same boy that left me. Only that he looks a bit older, maybe he’s eleven now. The same blue eyes, the same blond hair, but his eyes aren’t the same the last time I was with him. They are sad, full with tears that will break lose any moment now.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“Saw your reflection in the puddle” He says wiping his tears of his reddened cheeks.

“What’s the matter boy?”

“I don’t have all day for a lazy ass like yourself, I want two hens butchered in an hour. Get used to it lazy schlep” The woman, no doubt loves shouting.

“Why is this woman shouting at the top of her voice”

“That’s my mother and the owner of this butcher shop” He’s hiccuping very badly.

“I don’t want an introduction for that lady, your mother or not, she is SO LOUD” I speak in such an animated way that he can’t help and starts laughing between his tears. He is so better when he laughing and I like his grown up version, but not as much as the blond four year old one.

“So you tell me now, why is she shouting and why are you sitting in a puddle of blood?” He points towards a cage in the corner that has three hens and shows me the butcher knife lying beside him, all rusted and covered in blood.

“My mother wants me to butcher those hens, to help run the shop she owns, to help us repay the debts our drunk father has taken to drink himself to oblivion. She doesn’t care if I can’t do it, if I am too scared and it makes me nauseous to even see a human’s finger bleeding, let alone butchering a living hen. She wants our shop to be the best butcher shop in town.” And he’s sobbing harder now. I can’t see the boy this way.

Sometimes, it’s refreshing, settling to know that you don’t really know where you are headed, who awaits you, why are you walking, you just walk. Endlessly, religiously.

The blond boy doesn’t say much, just keeps walking looking ahead much like myself. I feel sad for the poor little thing, even though it’s possible that he might not actually exist, he’s just an illusion but nevertheless he’s a little child.” How much more do we have to walk” he looks up at me with his deep blue eyes.” Don’t know, till we find a place where we can sit down and rest for a little while” I say with a little smile. Smiling has never been my thing. Just a dull person is what people call me. Only if they knew what I do during my pass time. Ironical much.

“Look, look over there!! A cave, a cave!” I follow his gaze and find the little cave that’s got him so excited that he’s practically jumping with joy. I can’t help but reach out and pull his cheeks ever so lightly and he shies away. He’s one adorable little kid.
We walk towards the cave and slowly the redness of the sand lightens, and now it’s actually turning into the actual color of beach sand. That marks ending of a phase, and beginning of another. We have been walking for a long time, the cave didn’t seem so far off when we saw it from then.

The boy had been walking behind me all this while and I never looked back. I know, that’s pretty rude of me. “Solittle man, you don’t have to walk anymore now, we are here!” I get no reply. Okay so maybe he’s too tired to say anything. I look back hoping to find his tired face but I find no one. The boy’s gone. I look for him behind the cave, maybe he has decided to indulge in some hide and seek time. But no, nothing. then it strikes me, ” never get attached to someone in someone else’s dreams, they’re not yours. You’re just a helper and you’ll never be anything more.” I remember my mother telling me when I “helped” someone for the very first time, not at all willing, pure exercise of persuasion by my mother. I thought I’d do badly, suck at this “helping” thing and my mother would just let me go, but it came as quite a surprise to me and my mother too that I did so well. She was as shocked as I was but the only difference was she was ecstatic too.

I knew vanishing of the boy would mark the beginning of a new stage, a new threat, something that still occupied the subject’s mind and till the time I didn’t sort this out for him, my mother wouldn’t let me come back. So be it.

I sat in the cave quietly, waiting for any occurrence that would give a direction to this “project”. Yep, that’s what I called these horrifying expeditions. I mean who dreams about a blood covered beach with dead bodies lying all over, surely a sadist.

It has started to rain now. I’ve always loved rains. The drops seep down your body, seep deep into your soul, but unlike humans, they don’t demand anything in return, nor do they leave you shattered and hurt. They just leave you with new hopes, new visions, new ideas of life.
I decide to step out of the cave, so what if this is someone else’s dream, one can always enjoy the little things. I step out, the rain engulfs me into it’s arms, like always and I happily stand there in it’s embrace. But something’s odd about this rain. This rain smells odd, like blood. I down at my hands, can’t see what color the rain drops are but the rain drops are sticky. They aren’t supposed to be, unless it not only smells like blood, but it is blood. Yes, it’s raining blood now.

I stand midst a deserted place, as always. Only the surroundings differ, but nonetheless, deserted. Last time it was a hot blazing desert, this time it’s a beach. But beaches can’t be deserted. They are always bustling with happy voices all around, the laughter of children, the laughter of people in love, but never has deserted been associated with beaches.

Well technically, it isn’t deserted, there are people all around me, but no one blinks, no one speaks, no one laughs. They have something unusually common about them, no it’s not swim suits, sunglasses or sun blocks. They lie still, covered in blood. The beach water takes away some redness from the bodies near the shore, never had someone seen such shades of beach water. I look down, to watch my step as I walk through the disorganized graveyard. There’s no way I could walk on without stepping one of their hands, feet or any other red part of their bodies. Still, I know there’s no escaping this, I’ll have to do this. Again and again. No one can stop this, not even my screams which no one would hear, as always. I start walking, trying to avoid both looking down and stepping on someone, somewhere.As I step forward, to take my first step towards nowhere, someone grabs my dress. Instinctively, a normal person would scream until his throat can no longer get any more voice out, and run across bodies lying between the sands until he no longer sees any red. But not me, running never helps, this redness wouldn’t end even after running miles.

So I look down as to see who was it now that needed my help, for whom I was here. Or maybe he’s just a helper, but he was important I knew. Upon looking down, I see it’s a kid. Gorgeous blue-eyed boy. I would’ve appreciated his blond hair and his hopeful smile too but I don’t really want to appreciate the red tinge they now carry. I smile back weakly, that’s the best I could manage. He holds out his hand, little tiny fingered hands towards me and I grab it readily. This sweet little four or maybe five-year boy couldn’t possibly harm me, maybe he could but he’s my first step towards something unknown, something undiscovered, for which I was here.

We both start walking forward, missing someone’s legs, someone’s fingers, but by far haven’t stepped on anything but the red sand.

“How long do we walk” the blue-eyed boy asks me.

If he’d been familiar with what this was, he wouldn’t have asked. I assume he was just here because the person down in my bedroom wanted him to be here.

“I don’t know, maybe till the time we find a better, non-red place for ourselves” I reply keeping in mind that he was a normal five-year old boy, who wasn’t aware of what this was and why it was so important to the person in my bedroom, and somehow to me too.